Page 62 of Cold Light of Day

He’d learned from the chief that instead of utilizing their recently cobbled together local recovery team, she’d requested assistance from the AK Dive Search, Rescue and Recovery teamout of Anchorage. She hadn’t wanted Grier to be involved, she’d claimed, after their close call last night. Her way of protectinghim,he guessed.

The AK team had swooped into town early this morning. Dove into the dangerous, swollen waters of the Goldrock River to recover the body of the chief’s abductor. But they found the driver’s-side door open and no body. The driver could have escaped, or the river might have taken him. They recovered the SUV’s information, which revealed it had been stolen from Amelia Whitson, who was away from home visiting family in the lower forty-eight and hadn’t called it in as stolen. The chief was still waiting on the toxicology report, but she believed she was drugged.

She’d called to give him the information and asked him to meet her, or rather, wait in his vehicle and she would meet him. He didn’t have to wait long. The chief exited the police station and was the epitome of someone on a mission. She marched to the curb of the street, then glanced around before making a beeline for his truck.

That she sought him out shouldn’t warm his insides, but it did. In the end, it only meant she was desperate for help. And he would eagerly give it, but he feared she would eventually discover the truth he fought to hide.

She opened the passenger-side door and slid into his truck, instantly filling the cab with her scent and presence, and his heart rate kicked up.

Her gaze caught his and held on. “Thanks for meeting me.”

Get a grip. Don’t stare at her eyes.He looked straight ahead and tried to calm his breathing. “It sounded important.” Who was he fooling? He would have been here anyway, keeping an eye out. Someone had almost succeeded last night. In what—abducting her? Killing her? Where was that state trooper brother of hers?

“Well, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“You came to my office the other day, and I sent you away. I thought you might agree to tell me who you really are if I offered the information you wanted. You saved my life last night, Grier, so I owe you this much. The ME emailed me the ID of the guy we pulled from the shipwreck. I suppose if I were in your shoes, I’d want to know who I recovered.”

“Don’t forget, he was shot in the head, same as Hank’s nephew.” Grier’s chest tightened. “I’m concerned about you. Concerned that whoever is responsible is still walking the streets.”

“Or floating in the river—maybe it was the man who took me last night all along.”

“But we don’t know that he didn’t escape, so let’s act like he’s still alive until we confirm otherwise.” Next to him, she tensed. Grier added, “Sorry. You’re the boss. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“I might be dead if it wasn’t for you, so—I can’t believe I’m saying this—go ahead and overstep.” She grinned.

How could she smile in this morbid context? But he adored her smile and wanted to draw her closer and kiss those lips he’d almost kissed last night when they were blue. Now they were a warm pink.

He was losing it. Really losing it. Grier scraped a hand over his face. Time to focus. “So who was the guy in the shipwreck?”

“Let me pull up the email.” She found the information on her iPad. “His name is...Martin Krueger.”

TWENTY-SIX

Grier stared straight ahead, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed the steering wheel. His tanned, healthy complexion had paled. He must be remembering the dive to recover the body. She understood—she had tried to push away the memory of finding it.

“Grier, are you all right?”

He didn’t respond. Had he even heard her?

“Grier?” Concern rippling through her, she put her hand on his arm. A warm current surged, bringing with it flashes of memories—her in his arms as he carried her up the hill. Holding her against him. Nearly kissing her. She closed her eyes and forced her pounding heart to slow.

“I’m fine.”

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her.

“What else can you tell me?” His emotions were shuttered away.

She couldn’t read him. Unease crawled over her. “You’re not consulting for me, remember?”

“Aren’t I?”

His reaction to her news sent a sliver of fear shuddering through her. She glanced at Main Street, taking in the dailybustle, everyone going about their business as if danger hadn’t invaded their town.

“You’re in danger.”

What was she even doing here, talking to this man—who remained an enigma to her—about police business? Had she made a mistake by involving him? But she reminded herself he had the kind of grit she needed. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed. She had to admit there was so much more to Grier than his ability to assist her, so much more about him, and she wanted that in her life. Him in her life.

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